


E. multicarinata

by otterzest



Series: Recruitment [1]
Category: His Dark Materials, Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otterzest/pseuds/otterzest
Summary: St. Petersburg, 1989.





	E. multicarinata

The door creaked shut and, in the darkness of the house, Dmitri sighed. He peeled off the heaviest outer layer, shedding snow on the door mat, and hung it up before reaching a small table by the door and flicking a switch. Warm light glowed from a round bulb.

The little heat lamp illuminated the room, and the man sitting on the couch smiled. One arm was draped around the back of the couch, and although the orange glow from the lamp did not extend far enough to fully illuminate the form, something was perched there. Light glistened on the end of a curved beak. 

Dmitri stood still in the doorway, frozen, one hand tucked into a pocket. The stranger spoke. _"Good evening, Dr Vologin."_

 _"Who are you? What are you doing here?"_

“Doctor, I am afraid that I've just exhausted my entire Russian repertoire with the greeting.” The man was well-dressed in an elegant suit that clashed with its shabby surroundings. His Russian, although flawless, could not conceal an American accent. “However, I understand that you speak English quite well?”

“Yes,” Dmitri said, flatly. “What are you doing in my home?”

“I’m here to discuss your work.” The man had not dropped his smile from the second Dmitri saw him.

“Of course you are.” Dmitri turned once again to the lamp, and with unprecedented care drew a small form from out of his pocket. It curled up under the light to bask, tail flicking around in a semicircle. He then turned to face the stranger once more, arms crossed. “You should know that these theatrics do not scare me. Tell Kinski that he should know better.”

“I’d be more than happy to, except I’m not here on his behalf.” Dmitri raised an eyebrow, and the man drew a slim case from a jacket pocket. “I’m here on my behalf, and on behalf of Goddard Futuristics.” He extended a card, one arm still languid on the back of the couch, and Dmitri found himself holding it. “American,” he muttered to himself.

“I prefer to think of myself as a citizen of the world,” the man said breezily, but Dmitri has no patience for evasion this late in the evening. “How very nice for you. What did you want to discuss about my work.” 

“You’re a very talented man, Dmitri.” The stranger gestured for him to sit down in the chair across from the sofa, next to the table supporting the heat lamp. Dmitri didn’t move, but slid a hand down to rest on the table. The heat from the lamp warmed his fingertips. 

“A lot of people talk a big game, but very few walk the walk like you do. Your work on Specimen 17? Absolutely stunning.”

“There are plenty of talented geneticists in America,” Dmitri replied, voice still flat. 

“Perhaps. Although…” the stranger cocked his head, glanced back at the daemon that Dmitri still could not see but could almost tangibly feel the presence of, heavy and powerful. “Not many of them share your interest. In retroviruses.”

Dmitri didn’t move but the lizard, under the heat lamp, twitched a tail. The silence in the room deafened the howling of the blizzard outside. Finally, Dmitri spoke, and the effort put into making his voice stay level was almost palpable. “I. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No? Are you sure?” The stranger disentangled himself from something unseen behind the couch and leaned forwards, hands clasped in his lap. Two webbed feet had left his arm and resumed their perch on the back of the sofa. “Because I have this new friend from the Academy of Medical Sciences. Viktor Stuvok? And just last week week Viktor was telling me all about a very exciting retrovirus research initiative. And, according to him, that project had been proposed and directed by one Dmitri Vologin.”

“Doctor Stuvok died last year.”

The stranger beamed. “Of course he did. Of course.” He leaned back into the sofa, and now the bird hopped over the back to rest next to its human. It’s beak was very long and very pointed, but its eyes lacked the good-natured humor so strongly projected by her counterpart. 

On the table at his side, the lizard opened her mouth and nipped at Dmitri’s finger, and he cleared his throat. “So. What is this. Why are you here?”

“Let’s say that I’ve been looking to pick a horse in this particular race.” The bird’s eyes shifted from its human to focus on Dmitri. “And I have a thing for dark horses.”

“I…see.” The lizard cautiously moved to peer around Dmitri’s hand at the bird, then ducked back behind his fingers once more. “Even if I were to believe you,” Dmitri continued, “there are certain aspects of my work that might not-“

“Are you referring to the human trials?” The man cut him off easily, evenly. The bird clattered its beak softly. Neither Dmitri nor his daemon moved, breathed. Once more the pause dragged and silence filled the room. 

Dmitri was the one to break it, dredging up every ounce of diplomacy he could muster. “The potential for this subject is-“ 

He was cut off a second time in as many minutes, as the stranger began to laugh. He was nearly bent over, peals of laugher echoing unnaturally loud in the small room, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. But the bird daemon didn’t move, didn’t blink, kept its focused stared on Dmitri, who was completely caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. 

“You should have seen your face -“ the man chortled, still laughing, coughed. “Oh, phew.” He cleared his throat, sat up straight once more, adjusted his tie while he caught his breath. “Relax, Dmitri. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Still far more unnerved by this emotional outburst than anything else that evening, Dmitri pulled back slightly, leaning against the table. “I do not?”

“No.” The man, now completely recovered from his laughter, was sitting again with hands folded, one leg crossed over the other, daemon neatly immobile at his side. “I’m in the business of changing the world. Just like you are.”

“So… the detail of my past experimental work are…?”

“Completely irrelevant to me. I only care about one thing.” He leaned forward again. “Does. It. Work?”

The bird daemon’s gaze was unwavering, but they were finally returning to firm ground for Dmitri. “It will work.”

“Does it work right now?”

“I can make it work.” Dmitri’s loose hand curled into a fist, rested against his leg. “It is just a matter of time.”

“Hm.” The man leaned back again, and for the first time that evening seemed to take notice of his daemon. He offered a hand and the bird hopped up on his forearm, and he began to stroke the short soft feathers that lined her face. Without moving his gaze from the bird, he continued, “well… that’s too bad.”

“Too bad?”

“Tragic, really.” The man sighed, moved his arm and the bird shifted her weight accordingly. She never moved her gaze from the Russian and his daemon. The stranger picked at an imaginary piece of dust on her bill. “A shame.”

“Sir, I…” Dmitri was once again lost. “I apologize, English is… How you mean, tragic?”

“Your work,” the man said, somewhat distantly, as he continued to stroke his daemon. “It’s over.” As Dmitri spluttered in response the American shifted his gaze from the daemon to his host. “Oh please. Dmitri, look around you. The Soviet government has been extremely accommodating of your little pet projects, but those days are numbered. Your new supervisor? Comrade… Kinski? Already going over your records. And he’s just the beginning.” He smiled vacantly, ran a finger down his daemon’s face, from its eye down its throat. “There’s a West wind coming, Doctor. And once it’s here, you’ll be lucky to survive the week.”

Dmitri snorted. “I know how to take care of myself,” he nearly spat.

“Of course, of course.” The bird preened at his hand, the sharp bill tip slicing the air. “But I think we both know that your research requires a bit more oomph than what you’ll be able to accomplish working independently.”

“And you have an alternative?”

“It just so happens I do.” The man gently set the bird down on his knee, began stroking the wing feathers of his daemon as he once more returned his gaze to meet Dmitri’s. “There’s a brand new laboratory back at our headquarters in Canaveral. State of the art facility, top of the line equipment. World class stuff. It’s got everything -“ he leaned forward, gave Dmitri a meaningful look “- Except the genius cherry on top.”

Dmitri scoffed. “Defection.”

“Is that such an ugly word?” The man gave Dmitri a look that could almost be pitying, and he felt a reactive flare of anger in his gut. “The last member of your family died when you were nine. You never married, you have practically no friends to speak of. Your only real allegiance is to your work. And of course to Shura,” he nodded at Dmitri’s daemon. “And both would come with you.”

This last display of personal knowledge should not have been surprising, but Dmitri was still shocked. Another person hadn’t spoken his daemon’s name aloud since he was a child. Shura flinched, then lightening-fast darted up Dmitri’s sleeve and disappeared into his shirt. She peered out from underneath his collar. 

The man smiled again. “I can assure you, you both would be very comfortable back at Headquarters. Not to mention, Canaveral is a much more… accommodating environment for an ectotherm. No more need for heat lamps! And we do want her to be comfortable.” He looked meaningfully at the lamp on the desk besides Dmitri. “No man is an island. You’re lucky to still have her, after everything you’ve endured.”

It was gentle, but still a threat. 

Although shaken, Dmitri’s rationality propelled him along. “I am listening.” 

“Full contract,” the man said promptly. “We’ll fund your work in exchange for your expertise as a microbiologist and radiologist. Any discoveries you make while under our employ will be the property of Goddard Futuristics. In perpetuity. As long as you are under our employment, we’ll handle your housing, your expenses, and your identity.”

Dmitri swallowed. “How long will I-“

“As long as it takes.”

Dmitri brought his fingertips together. “Let us be completely clear, for my work to continue I will need access to human trials. It is my understanding that my methods would be considered -“

“You will have your subjects, Doctor.” The man was no longer smiling.

“I cannot guarantee the well-being of anyone-“

“I said, you will have your subjects. Doctor.” The man stood rapidly. The bird leapt from the couch to land on his shoulder, wings flaring far wider than Dmitri expected, bill gaping. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Dmitri. Ever again.” 

Then came another unexpected shift in demeanor and the man relaxed. He took the business card back from Dmitri, scribbled on the back with a glossy chrome pen, and set it on the table with the heat lamp. 

“I’ll be at that address until noon tomorrow. If you’re coming, find me before I leave.”

Dmitri nodded. “Very well.”

The man smiled, patted Dmitri on the arm as he walked past him. The bird on his shoulder stretched its wings, and Dmitri flinched backwards to avoid brushing up against the feather tips. The impossibly long wings were folded back into the glossy black void of the daemon’s body.

When the man has his hand on the doorknob Dmitri couldn’t help himself anymore. “Sir… what is your name?”

The man laughed, voice reverting back to the sing-song lilt he first used. “Oh silly me, always getting ahead of myself! The name is William. William Carter.” 

He extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.” 

Dmitri couldn’t help his gaze from flicking upwards to that of the massive bird daemon, who had not been introduced. It opened its beak and closed it slowly, deliberately. 

Under his shirt Dmitri could feel Shura pressing into his skin, could feel a frantic heartbeat that was far too rapid for any true cold-blooded lizard.

He took the hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Carter.”

It would be years before Dmitri heard his daemon’s true name spoken aloud again, while making repairs on a decaying space station seven light years away from Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Daemons:
> 
> Dmitri Vologin; Shura - Southern alligator lizard
> 
> William Carter; Kaustos - Magnificent frigatebird


End file.
